


The Reunification of Skyrim

by TherealKyena



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Injury, Skyrim Civil War, fixed up the civil war questline to make sense, mild canon divergence?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:04:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16993833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TherealKyena/pseuds/TherealKyena
Summary: Karsi Matellus is a Nord like any other. Desne Willowbrook just wants to escape from her broken home. Sabiene Carsier longs for a life of freedom. Relayne Nyrvano seeks out a place to use her skills.All will be brought together in Skyrim; for better or worse.





	The Reunification of Skyrim

Running through the snow was harder than Karsi expected. But the growling of the troll hot on her heels sped her on anyway. She silently cursed the good for nothing horse that had brought her this far only to spook when she laid camp in the mountain pass. She’d just barely set foot into Skyrim. But the late summer snows had choked up some of the higher passes, one of which she’d, unfortunately, had to cross.

Now she was horseless, running down a mountain with no supplies and an angry troll on her ass. Cold bit at her lungs with every breath but she wasn’t about to stop now. She was not going to become troll food. Something whiffed past her head and ended up in the troll. She heard it let out a grunt and stumble for a moment before it kept crashing through the snow after her. Another handful of whiffles. She threw herself closer to the ground, as far down as she could go to keep running. 

The troll let out another angered growl. Then it stumbled and slid into the snowbanks. Karsi chanced a look behind her and exulted when the troll rolled to a dead stop, heaving out its last breath.

She slowed until she sank in the waist-high snow that wrapped around the pine trunks, sucking in the freezing air. She was safe. She was safe and amongst people again. They could tell her where to go so she could restart her life away from Calinian and her father’s expectations. She could live the life her mother dreamed for her. Back in her homeland, living amongst the other Nords again.

Karsi looked up to see the Imperial soldier snarl at her. “Stormcloak! Stand down!”

_ Stormcloak? _

“My name is Karsi-”

“Stormcloak! _Stand!_ _Down!”_ The soldier cried, tearing the sword loose that hung from his waist.

Karsi looked around, past the snow-covered trees and saw the bodies. She saw the Imperials rounding up the living blue-clad soldiers.

Blue. Like she was wearing.

She shook her head. “I’m not a Stormcloak!”

The soldier sighed and approached, relieving her of her mother’s axe.

Karsi reached out, grabbing onto the soldier’s gauntleted forearm. “I swear to you, I’m not a Stormcloak-”

The pommel of the sword was smashing into Karsi’s face before she could roll out of the way.

~~~~~~

The jostling of the wagon roused Karsi into waking. The clopping of shod hooves against the flagstones and their quiet breathing must’ve lulled her to sleep in the first place, that or the blow to the head after she ran into the ambush.

She tried to sit herself up, noticing that her hands were bound now. She let out a long sigh and shook her head a bit to clear her senses, wincing as the pain of her broken nose hit her again. Taking that pass had been a bad idea. Bad enough that she ran into a damned troll but now she was a prisoner.

“You’re finally awake.” A blond man called out to her, grabbing her attention. She shifted her weight onto her left elbow, pushing herself fully upright now. 

“Would appear so.” She cast him a glare, wishing now that she was still out cold so that she wouldn’t have to speak to her new friends.

He let out a sigh and glanced at the man that was sitting to her right. Karsi followed his gaze and for the first time since she was facing down the Imperial ambush, she felt a twinge of fear.

She knew the face of Ulfric Stormcloak. She knew what having him sitting next to her meant. This wasn’t a friendly ride to some dungeon for light torture and questioning. This was a ride to their deaths.

~~~~~~

Karsi curled herself into a small huddled ball in the farthest corner of the wagon closest to the driver, far away from her new ‘friends’. The blond man had fallen silent after trying to get her to speak with him, instead arguing with the brunette Nord man that sat next to him. She tried to ignore the pounding of her heart against her ribs. The driver muttered to the horses, letting out a snort when he turned to see Karsi’s white face.

“Not liking your company, miss?” He stifled a laugh this time before clucking the horses on faster. She jolted hard against the backboard and let out a hiss to the driver before she twisted in her seat, seeing a town rise through the pines.

_ Must be where they’re taking us. _ Karsi thought with a sigh. The gates opened, her companions muttering something about the General and his meeting with the high elves. How the Empire just rolled over like a dog.

Did they not know that the Nords and all other non-elven races had faced certain annihilation if they didn’t? Her father had drilled that idea into her head since she could understand them. 

That was the reason why her mother, a true Nord of Skyrim, came to the Imperials and married one. They would never understand why the Imperials were pandering to the Thalmor. They just bided their time.

Or so she believed. She had a healthy hatred of the Thalmor from her mother, imparted on her from birth.

She was also taught that the Empire had its faults. Hard, unyielding to the ones who’ve broken the laws. 

Or suspected of breaking them.

Karsi’s eldest brother hated her. She was a spitfire, she would freely admit that, and Calinian detested rudeness. He was his father’s son through and through. He’d sooner rat her out to the guards than to take her side.

In fact, she was sure it had been Calinian that told the Imperial soldiers that she was jumping the border into Skyrim for one reason or another. But she must have just been very unlucky to have run into the ambush when she did.

She paid no heed to the man sitting opposite from her. As far as Karsi was concerned, the Stormcloaks would always be her enemies. He commented on the appearance of General Tullius with a few Thalmor as they entered the town proper, leading them through the streets as people jeered and followed the procession to the executioner’s block.

They pulled the horses to a halt, motioning for the prisoners to get out of their wagons. Karsi followed forlornly, accepting that nobody here would listen to her to get herself free. She certainly wasn’t going to try running. She’d tried that before, when they first spotted her trying to plow through near three feet of mountain snow and gotten a black eye and a broken nose.

There was a wood elf that came grunting from a wagon beside hers, along with a Breton and a Dunmer. The Breton was small, considering that Karsi was half a giant thanks to her mother, and she looked so frightened as her eyes darted from face to face looking for a sympathetic person. It was the one good look that  Karsi got of her face, perhaps the last. It looked like she’d gone through Oblivion and back. Crusted blood clung to her face in patches, along with dirt and grime from travel. Scars were all over her face like she’d been beaten within an inch of her life. But her eyes. Her eyes were afire. Deep and dark blue, like the waters that her mother described of the coast of Skyrim. Deep and dark and ice cold. A soft face framed by ebony black hair, delicate features.

“Ralof of Riverwood.” An Imperial soldier called. The blond man stepped in front of Karsi, drawing her attention from the Breton to the soldiers. The Imperial made a note in his ledger of the Stormcloak.

_ Imperials and their damned lists… _

“You four, step forward.” The legate commanded, gesturing to the Bosmer, Breton, and Dunmer, along with Karsi. She watched the Dunmer leap from the wagon beside hers, proud as ever. Like the Dunmer woman wasn’t being marched off to her death.

Each stepped forward, the Bosmer wincing, even with her bound hands she clutched her side as if her ribs were broken. The Breton limped her way over as if she had a lame leg.

It seemed that Karsi and the Dunmer were the only ones that didn’t have any serious injuries.

And as luck would have it, Karsi was the first one in line. The soldier looked her up and down, eyes lingering a little too long.

“Like what you see, soldier? Let's say we bed down and you let me go?” She said sweetly, a smirk curling up her lips.

The man immediately brought his gaze back up, meeting her eyes with a slight blush on his suntanned cheeks. “Who are you?” He muttered with his hand poised over the ledger.

She sighed and closed her eyes.“Karsi Matellus. Nord.”

The captain looked a bit surprised. “Matellus? Strange name for a Nord.”

Karsi smiled sweetly as she turned to the captain. “I’m a strange Nord.”

The captain didn’t share her humor. Roughly, she hauled her away from the little soldier boy, who called out weakly that she wasn’t on the list. The look she shot back at the boy was enough to silence him, quickly asking her how to spell it as he penned it into the ledger.

The captain made her stand next to the rest of the Stormcloaks while he took down the names of the others.

The Breton’s voice was as quiet as she expected. She said her name was Sabiene Carsier. Again, her name wasn’t on the list but she was still sentenced to death.

_ Judge. _

_ Jury. _

_ Executioner. _

By the time it was the Bosmer’s turn, Karsi was too far away to hear.

Karsi turned her attention back to the executioner, a muscled giant armed with an axe. The hood exposed only his hardened eyes that watched the scene without interest.

The legate called up a man, hardly much older than herself, to the chopping block first. The executioner and the legate exchanged a signal, the legate pushing the man down onto the block.

She closed her eyes, turning her head away from the executioner’s axe as it swung down in an arc to meet the redhead’s neck. The wet crunch was enough for her. The coppery smell of his blood as it spurted over the stones had her already nerve-racked stomach rolling. 

Karsi had been to an execution before. She swore to herself that she never would again.

_ Akatosh...Kynareth...Damned Talos, help me. _

_ You're a Nord, Karsi. Meet your death with some dignity. _

_ Only half, dear heart… _

“Next, the Nord!” The legate called out, her finger pointed at Karsi with a sneer on her face. She closed her eyes, standing up straighter. She would not cry out. She would not whimper. She’d meet her end with honor and pride. She’d gotten to  _ see _ her homelands, at least. The little bit she’d seen from the mountain pass she’d taken to hop the border.

“Gods smile on you, Karsi Matellus,” Ralof remarked as she made her way to the block. She turned and gave him a small smile and a wink. 

A thunderous roar shook the town.

“What in Oblivion is  _ that?! _ ” General Tullius cried, the soldiers all on edge now. Their hands darted to their weapons, eyes flicking from here to there trying to figure out where the threat was coming from.

But nothing showed for the span of another couple of moments. 

The legate stomped towards Karsi, pulling her to the block and shoving her down onto it. 

Karsi was forced to watch the executioner get his axe ready, her heart thumping out of her chest. She didn’t want to die. Not this way. She wanted to die in a great battle against dragons and go to Sovngarde to drink with the rest of the heroes of old.

She saw a tower behind him, her eyes able to focus on nothing else.

The executioner was just about to swing down his axe.

Karsi tensed, the foot on her back keeping her from rolling away.

Then, a shape burst from the cloud cover over the faraway mountains.

Another thunderous roar shook the town, rattling loose stones from their spots. Horses shied and ran, so did some of the more easily frightened townsfolk.

 

_ Alduin’s wings, they did darken the sky… _

_ His roar fury’s fire and his scales sharpened scythes… _

_ Men ran and they cowered, and they fought and they died… _

 

The Legate was distracted, waiting for orders from her General. Her foot slipped from Karsi’s back.

Away she rolled, narrowly missing rocks as they fell from the tower as the dragon landed atop it. It surveyed the scene before it, letting out what Karsi assumed was a shout. Fire rained from the sky.

“You damned idiots! Run! Do something!” Karsi cried. Her hands were still bound as she struggled to get up. She looked up just in time to see a rock falling straight for her head.

~~~~~~

She knew that she wasn’t out for long. The Breton was trying to drag her into a nearby building, along with Ralof. He was screaming at Sabiene, trying to get her to leave Karsi behind. 

Then she started to stand, her limbs like water as she tried to use them. Somehow, with Sabiene and Karsi’s water limbs, they made it to the building, throwing the heavy wooden door closed behind them.

“What was that thing?” Sabiene asked, leaving Karsi leaning against the stone stairs to tend to another unlucky soul. She wasn’t going to get off so easily. The Stormcloak’s blue hauberk was stained with blood. She was practically holding herself together with her hands.

Sabiene knew that she was beyond help. She stood up and gave the other Stormcloak a squeeze on the shoulder, shaking her head. “She cannot be helped.” She whispered to the other Stormcloak who was with her. Stubbornly, he stayed by the woman, even when a handful of others made their way up the stone staircase to scout a way out. 

Ulfric Stormcloak pulled off his muzzle. He looked unperturbed at the return of…well. The thought was too ridiculous for Karsi to entertain. Dragons had been dead for years. Suddenly, they had made a return? It made no sense. 

“Could it have been? A dragon?” The blond Nord cried. He looked just as skeptical as Karsi did. 

“Legends don’t burn down villages, Ralof,” Ulfric replied, his eyes on the staircase. “We have to keep moving.” His eyes finally landed on Karsi still trying to get her bearings back. “Ralof, take that one and find us a way out of here.”

“Karsi, right?” Ralof inquired as he held out his hand for Karsi to take. She clapped their hands together, pulling against him to get to her feet. She was still bound but nobody had the time nor the means to get them off.

Up the stairs they went, Karsi in the lead. Sabiene was close on her heels as they followed after another Stormcloak that had made his way up the stairs.

He was just about to open his mouth to speak when the wall broke apart and the dragon’s maw appeared through the gaping hole. It eyed her with a certain interest, black eyes holding an intelligence far above any normal beast. She thought for a moment that she could speak to the dragon, like a fool.

Karsi fell backward and threw her hands in front of her face as the dragon breathed more fire down into the tower. Ralof’s hands tugged her the rest of the way away from the flames that licked towards her feet. 

Sabiene let out a gasp, her own hands still bound, and fell against the wall. She was shaking with disbelief as the dragon launched itself from the tower. “We have to keep moving. This gives us a way out now.” Karsi struggled to pull herself upright. She hissed at Ralof as he tried to help her to her feet. Instead, she stretched out her hands to Sabiene. 

The Breton’s night blue eyes watched her closely. She looked even smaller when Karsi stood over her. She barely came up to Karsi’s shoulder. Both women leaned on each other as they surveyed the distance between the ruined tower and the shattered roof of the inn on the other side, perhaps leaping distance for one with long legs and balls the size of Nirn.

“Go, onto the roof on the other side. We’ll catch back up.” Ralof said as he made his way back down the tower to his beloved leader and the rest of his people. Would he still be so helpful if he knew that Karsi was no true Nord? That she was a halfling in their eyes? That she would sooner place a dagger in Ulfric’s ribs than to join him in weakening her homeland?

Karsi cast a glance back to Sabiene. The woman looked near half frightened of the gap. She sighed and sullenly cursed the gods that they had to bless her with her courage. A step backward, another moment of measuring the distance and Karsi threw herself through the hole in the wall.

She landed roughly, trying her best to roll into the landing, rolling too far as she slowed herself down. Off the broken edge of the upper level, she fell with a loud oof and a grunt of pain as she landed on her shoulder. Karsi threw herself upwards and onto her feet, stumbling through the door as if drunk. She didn’t have time to make sure that Sabiene made it through behind her, only to move forward and hope for the best.

“Hamming, you need to get back here!” The little soldier boy called, his eyes on the rapidly approaching dragon that meant to turn them all to a crisp.

But the boy would not move as the black leviathan banked and descended to the ground.

The dragon’s great maw opened and Karsi made a choice. 

Dragon’s fire licked up her legs as she yanked back the little boy from his certain death. She dared not to let out a keening cry as the fabric of her woolen pants burned away, turning her skin pink and red. First her forearms now her legs. The soldier boy pulled them both back further, hiding them behind a wall that was still standing, Hamming fell from her arms and into the embrace of an elderly man’s.

“You’re still alive, prisoner?” The soldier asked, an incredulous tone coloring his voice.

Karsi sighed inwardly. “My name isn’t prisoner, it’s Karsi.” She hissed, keeping her voice low enough that he wouldn’t hear.

The soldier smiled at her, his sword held dangerously loose in his grip like he was with a friend. Perhaps he was, but still, she was supposedly a dangerous criminal who associated with the rebels. “Follow me if you want to stay that way!” He cried, taking off through the burning settlement in search of more survivors, or more importantly a way out. 

“Gods be with you, Hadvar.” The elderly man coughed, his voice like gravel.

They sprinted for the other side of the town, their breath catching in the smoldering air, choking them, filling their lungs with smoke and ash. They couldn’t save anybody as they made their way to the opposite side of the town. There were soldiers locked in battle, throwing arrows at a foe that seemed like it barely bothered it, dying for nothing but to draw its ire.

A woman came running, from where Karsi didn’t see, but she slammed into the bound woman and sent her sprawling in the dirt just outside the keep.

The woman was burned beyond belief. By the gods how she screamed and screamed for Karsi to help her. Skin sloughed off her hands as she gripped Karsi’s shoulders, shaking her, crushing her under her weight. 

The Breton called out and a spell flashed from her hands.

Karsi felt the life finally go out of the poor woman. She wriggled herself free from the corpse with a cry and struggled to her feet. Sabiene wrapped her fingers around Karsi’s upper arm, dragging her further from the woman. It took Hadvar to get Karsi to her feet as he led the both of them through the keep’s door, shoving it closed behind them.

The sudden dimness took a while to get used to as their eyes searched for a way out. Karsi spied a chest nearby and weapons on the racks in the room. She wondered if Sabiene could keep Hadvar occupied while she slipped her bonds.

She was just about to move when strong hands gripped her wrists. The cold press of steel between her hands made her hold still as Hadvar sawed off the ropes that bound her hands together. Hadvar’s eyes were on her, full of a silent pleading for her not to strike him. Karsi hoped that her eyes conveyed her promise of safety. At that, he pressed the dagger into her hands, making her take it.

“Thanks.” She whispered, rubbing at her wrists where the ropes had torn through flesh. She wondered if she looked half mad. Covered in ash and soot. Bruises and blood. Wearing dirty and torn clothes from home. She let out a sigh and smoothed out her mussed hair, braiding it back from her face quickly. Her mother had shown her numerous Nord ways to wear her hair.

Sabiene fared no better. Her clothes were just as tattered as Karsi’s. What had once been expensive robes were dirty and torn. Her hair was a matted mess on top of her head, echoes of what had been an elaborate topknot. She had a hollow, sunken look to her face. Like she’d been traveling far longer than Karsi had to get here.

“What are you doing here,” She paused, trying to pull her name from her mind. “Sabiene, right?”

Sabiene tensed, stopping her digging through the chest for a moment before she returned to her task. “Yes. Sabiene Carsier.” She dragged in a breath, holding the leftover leather armor that looked small enough to fit her. “I came here from High Rock. Trying to...start over. I didn’t get very far before the Imperials found me. Took me into custody until they could decide what to do with me. And now I’m here.”

Karsi’s eyes lingered on her face. Taking in the multitude of scars that lined her face. “How did you get those?” The softness of her own voice surprised her.

Sabiene shook her head. “Must’ve been from here. The rocks and-” She cleared her throat loudly. “Could you help me get this on?”

She swallowed thickly and helped the Breton into the borrowed armor. Gauntlets and new boots completed her armor. The boots were far better than the silken slippers she had been wearing before, torn and ragged from the journey here. “My name’s Karsi Matellus. I came here from Cyrodiil. The Imperial City. My father works there. For the Emperor.”

Sabiene eyed her for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Is he a Nord?”

Karsi shook her head with a wistful smile. “No, my mother’s the Nord. From Skyrim. Windhelm, or near there. My father’s an Imperial, born and bred in the Imperial City.”

The doors were flung open and in stumbled the Bosmer and Dunmer, both breathing hard and covered more thoroughly in ash. “Shut it, shut it, shut it!” The Dunmer hissed, throwing her weight backward onto the door while the Bosmer made sure the latch was caught before she slid down to the floor.

When they caught their breath, they both look up to the shocked faces of the trio, all stopped in their tracks. The Bosmer blinked at them for a moment before she regained herself. “Uh...hello?” She drawled, drawing out the hello. It was followed by a toothy smile.

“We uh...might need some help.” She continued, holding out her still bound hands. The Bosmer’s eyes caught all of theirs, Karsi’s last. Pale green-gold, almost like an Altmer’s eyes. She looked young though that did not mean much. Even Karsi’s near thirty years was nothing compared to the lives of the races of Mer. Her skin was bronze, dirty as the rest of the little ragtag group. Her smiles seemed toothy, her manner of speech at least somewhat educated. Perhaps she didn’t hail from Valenwood. Maybe it was Cyrodiil or a place that was closer to more civilized places. Some Bosmer didn’t take the Greenpact. Her dark chestnut hair was half shaved, tossed to one side. The fading signs of a fight were across her face, though it wasn’t quite so scarring as whatever happened to Sabiene.

Karsi crossed the distance between them and sawed through the ropes, helping the Bosmer to her feet. “Karsi Matellus.”

“Desne Willowbrook.” She gave Karsi a curtsy with a smirk on her face. When she rose from it, she could barely look Karsi in the eye. She was definitely taller than Sabiene but not by a wide margin. “Well met, Karsi.”

Karsi nodded at Desne. “How did you two make it? I didn’t see head nor hide of you until just now. I’d thought you got roasted by that damned thing.”

Desne gripped at her side and took a short breath. “We couldn’t keep up with you and the little one. Not for very long. Before we knew it we were locked out on the streets while you when skipping on rooftops. Ran from cover to cover until we got here. Didn’t think that you’d be in here though. We, or I, thought you’d become a little snack for our friendly dragon.”

Karsi snickered at that. “Luckily we weren’t. I’m glad you made it out of there.” She smacked Desne on the shoulder, too hard it seemed. When Karsi turned to move away, Desne rubbed at the spot for a moment before she dug through the chest that Sabiene had found her armor.

The Dunmer stood straight-backed when Karsi came over to her, dagger held out and ready. She held out her hands as Desne had, but this time far more reserved. Silent. Something in her movements made Karsi think of a slithering snake. Those haunting pure red eyes looked into her very soul. Her thin lips were set into a harsh line. She was definitely older than the Bosmer. Probably the oldest out of the bunch. Mistrust was written all over her face. 

It surprised Karsi when she spoke. “Relayne Nyrvano.” Her voice was gravel, hissed through clenched teeth when Karsi set the dagger between her hands, gripping them with one of her own.

Karsi kept the eye contact as she sawed through the ropes. “Karsi Matellus.”

Relayne's eyes flicked over her face. After a moment, she must have found what she searched for. She gripped Karsi's forearm and gave it a shake. “I'll follow you until we get out of here but we part ways after.”

Karsi nodded as she released Relayne's arm. She left them behind to wander over to Hadvar. A glimmer on the wall caught her attention, drawing her eyes to the axe that stood amongst the various imperial swords and other arms. “Is that mine?”

Hadvar looked from the door, searching to see which key would unlock it, and nodded. “Any weapons we stripped from the prisoners were there. For redistribution.”

Karsi snarled and drew the axe from the rack. “It was my mother's. I'll not see it sold to some fool.”

“I don't think I'm in any position to argue, Karsi.” He sighed as another key refused to fit. The door rattled, unperturbed when he punched it with the side of his fist.

Karsi shot him a look, eyebrow arching, and looked back at the weapon racks. Hers was the only one she recognized. There were swords and axes, some as long as her body. Daggers and knives ranging from barely longer than her first finger to as long as her forearm. All were emblazoned with the sigil of the Empire on the blades. She recalled Ralof muttering about the Imperial walls making him feel safe as a boy. There was once upon a time where seeing the mark of the Empire covering everything she owned made her feel proud. Now it filled her mouth with a sour taste. Shame. Would she be here now if she hadn’t defied what her father wanted for her? What Calinian wanted for her?

Hadvar reached out and barely touched her elbow. “Karsi? We have to keep moving.”

She shook her head and shoved the axe through her belt. “Let’s get out of this place.”


End file.
